


Once Upon a December

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Historical Fiction AUs [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anastasia AU, F/M, OQ Prompt Party 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:05:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: Written for OQ Prompt Party 2018.Based on the plot of the movie Anastasia.





	Once Upon a December

She’d stood on the balcony overlooking the ballroom, watching as awe as her parents’ guests dance, looking as if they were floating over the green and gold tiled ballroom. The men all wore their tails and black ties and silky cumberbunds and the women all glittered in their finest jewelry and beautiful, silky dresses; and though it was a snowy December night, everyone’s cheeks were rosy and even from where she sat, she could feel the warmth swimming up from the ballroom.

She knew the was supposed to be in bed–tucked in and long asleep–like her sister, but she couldn’t help it and she was far too excited to sleep.

Grinning she stood up as a new song began to play. She tightly pressed her eyes closed as she fell into a deep curtsy, and then with a giggle, she stood up again, scooping up Rocinante–her favorite stuffed horse–and held him out in front of her by his front paws. She giggled again–this time louder– as she twirled around the empty balcony, pretending to waltz with Rocinante.

For as long as she could remember she loved sneaking out of her bed to watch beautiful people dancing in a beautiful ballroom, and she could barely wait until she was old enough to join them. This particular celebration was to mark the three-hundredth anniversary of her family’s reign. Her grandfather Xavier and her grandmother Eugenia sat on their thrones–too old to dance, but not too old to enjoy the party–and her parents sat at their sides. Her father, Henry, grinned happily from his seat and his cheeks were flushed from his last go around the ballroom and her mother sat with her chin tilted up, looking haughty but entertained.

Closing her eyes again, she imagined that it was her wedding day. She wore a glittering white dress and a sparkling tiara; and though, she knew she’d never be queen–that would be her sister’s role, no matter the meaning of her name–she’d still have a royal wedding that the whole kingdom would attend, and she’d dance at the center of the ballroom until the sun was rising up and shining in through the great windows that lined an entire wall of the ballroom.

She giggled to herself as she twirled–and then, she stopped, hugging Rocinante to her chest as the smell of mint wafted toward her. Swallowing hard, she grimaced as her eyes fluttered open and she bit down on her lip as she looked up to her grandmother, standing before her with her hands on her hips, looking cross.

“Hi, Granny.”

“Regina, where are you supposed to be?”

“In bed.”

“And why aren’t you?”

Grimacing, she shrugged. “I could hear the music…”

And then, a hint of a grin formed on her grandmother’s lips. “We’re going to have to start locking your door,” she sighs. “And getting you some dancing lessons.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Well, we can’t have you flopping around the ballroom, like you just were,” she laughed as she held out her hand, and with a sigh, Regina took it. She fully expected to be led back to her bedroom; but instead, Granny scooped her up and carried her to the end of the hall. They settled together on a bench at the top of the stairs that led to the ballroom–and she couldn’t help but think how much better the view was from where they were sitting now. “Perhaps we can get you some proper lessons in the spring.”

“I’d like that,” Regina murmured, slowly turning away from the ballroom and looking to her grandmother. “Zelena, too?”

“Zelena, too,” Granny nodded, laughing softly as Regina bounced in her lap. “And until then, I’ve got something else to entertain you.”

“Something else?” She asked, her brow furrowing as she watched her Granny reach into the pocket of her dress–and then, as her palm opened, a gold chain slipped down between her fingers. “A necklace?”

“Look at it.”

Reaching out, she took the chain and as she pulled the necklace from her grandmother’s hand, a locket slipped down the chain and dangled in front of her. Her eyes widened as a smile stretched over her lips. “A locket! It’s so pretty!” She said, her voice rising in excitement as she fidgeted with it in an effort to open it up–and then, she she did, her brow furrowed again. “It’s empty.”

Granny nodded. “Read it.”

Blinking down, she picked up the locket and held it close. It was written in a curly script that rounded the edges of the oval locket, and the words were hard to make out. “To… gether… in.. Par… is,” she’d sounded out. And then Granny laughed as her eyes widened. “Together in Paris!? Really!?”

“Really,” Granny told her. “I was thinking you might like to come along and keep me company.” Tears filled her eyes as she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her grandmother’s neck. “So, it’s safe to assume you want–”

“Yes!”

Granny laughed as she plucked the locket from her palm and lifted her hair to fasten it around her granddaughter’s neck. “We’ll take pictures and put them inside, so that you’ll always remember our special trip.” Lifting her, off her lap, she set her down on the ground and then stood up and took her hand again. “We leave first thing tomorrow morning. You’d better get some sleep.”

Giggling, Regina took her hand, not willing to protest–and suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go to sleep, so that morning would come quicker.

They’d gotten a few feet down the hall when then lights first flickered–and it’d been then that she’d turned away, breaking free from her grandmother’s hold. “I forgot Rocinante,” she called as she ran back toward the stairs–and it’d been then the lights flickered again, before the room went dark.

She’d stood rooted her in place as she watched the gray-faced Rumplestiltskin stride into the ballroom. He looked smug and sinister, and the everyone gasped as he entered. His eyes seemed to glow and she’d watched as he pulled a dagger from his inner pocket, and strode toward her grandfather.

Her father stood up and got in front of him, demanding that he leave as he wasn’t welcome, but Rumplestiltskin had only laughed. His laugh was high-pitched and manic, and it sent a chill through the room.

“Regina, come back here,” Granny whispered. “Regina!”

“I…” She looked to her grandmother, but then a loud crash of thunder shook the room. She couldn’t help but look back, and when she did tears filled her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin was muttering something that she couldn’t quite hear as he held up the dagger–and at his feet laid her father, motionless. “Papa!”

“Regina, we have to get out of here,” Granny whispered harshly as her arm hooked around her waist. “We have to–”

There was another crash of thunder and this time, the windows glowed green and a shriek came from the bedroom down the hall. Granny had stopped, looking toward the bedroom where Zelena slept and she watched as green smoke wafted out from under the door–and before she could even considered what was happening, Granny lifted her up and ran the opposite way. One of the hallboys was waving to her and he pressed on a piece of moulding, and her eyes widened as the wall swung open.

“This way, Your Majesty,” the hallboy called–and then, a moment later, she and Granny were inside of the wall, running down a flight of narrow stairs, following the hallboy’s lead. “This will take you to the cellar, and there’s a ladder to take you outside,” he’d told them.

It was pitch-black and she’d clung to Granny with tears brimming in her eyes. Her body shook with fear; she didn’t understand what was happening or why Rumplestiltskin had looked so crazed. She’d seen him countless times before when he’d come to pray with her mother, and though he’d always been a little frightening, her mother assured her that she could trust him.

“Granny, is–”

“Shhh.”

“But–”

“Be quiet and still, Regina,” Granny whispered, her voice hoarse and her breath ragged. “Hold on tight.”

“I will,” she’d promised.

The hallboy pushed the cellar doors open and a gust of icy air slapped her in the face, and she’d tried to burrow into Granny’s shoulder, but her grandmother pulled her away. “I can’t carry you,” she’d told her. “Take my hand.”

“The train station isn’t far,” the boy said, pointing to the palace gates. “Just down that road.”

She didn’t remember what happened next–she’d barely been aware of it as it was happening. She just ran, clutching tightly to her grandmother’s hand as they ran away from the the palace. Her heart beat wildly and the tears stung as they fell from her eyes–and when they finally, reached the train station, her grandmother had begged and pleaded for two tickets. She’d taken off her jewelry–her emerald necklace and matching earrings, her diamond wedding ring, and and her tiara–and tossed them onto the counter, begging for the teller to accept them as payment. Finally, the teller relented and pushed two tickets through the opening in the glass–and frantically, Granny reached for them.

“Its taking off now,” he told her, nodding toward a train. “You’ll have to run.”

Granny thanked him hurriedly and again took her by the hand, and once more, they ran as quickly as they could toward the already-moving train.

“We’re nearly safe now,” Granny whispered, practically panting as she mustered a reassuring smile–and Regina nodded, wanting to believe her as she grasped tightly onto her hand. “Faster, Regina.”

“There! The princess!” Regina’s eyes widened as she saw two men carrying guns running toward her. “She’s boarding! Stop her!”

“Regina, hold on,” Granny called as she stepped onto the train from the platform. “We’ll be safe in a moment. Step up!” She nodded and took a step, but the men were calling her name now and she’d turned to look, her heart beating faster as she swallowed hard–and as she stepped off of the platform, her foot missed. “Regina!” Granny called, still grasping her hand. “Step up!”

“I– I’m trying!”

“She’s there!” Then men called, their voices louder as they neared. “Don’t let her get away! Stop that girl!”

She was running now, still trying to keep up–and her legs couldn’t quite keep up. Tears rushed to her eyes as her grandmother called for her to jump, telling her that she’d catch her–and holding her breath, she tried. But as soon as she pushed her foot off of the platform, she hit a patch of ice and her foot slipped. The train’s speed was picking up–and the last thing she heard was Granny calling out her name, her voice shrill and panicked, and then she heard them men laughing out as the world faded away from her…

Her eyes fluttered open–and almost immediately, she felt tears rushing to her eyes, and though she didn’t know why, she felt a deep sadness within her at the realization that she no longer smelled peppermint. Her body was sore and her head ached terribly–and standing over her was a nun, in her black and white habit.

“Wh-what happened?”

“You fell,” the nun told her. “They found you underneath the platform at the train station.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, wincing. She doesn’t remember being at the train station. “My… my head hurts.”

“You’re lucky that’s all that hurts, and you’re lucky the train didn’t drag you onto the tracks,” the nun tells her. “You’d have been a goner, for sure. A few bumps and bruises, and a headache is nothing to complain about?” Sighing, the nun sits down on the edge of the bed. “What were you doing on those tracks, anyway?”

She blinks–she doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know where she was going or how she managed to fall.

She doesn’t know anything.

“What’s your name, child?”

“R…” Her voice trails off as the syllable falls off her lips–and her eyes widen as she realizes that she doesn’t know her own name. “Oh, no,” she whispers as tears slip down her cheeks.

“Roni?”

“Hmm?”

The nun sighs. “Roni, where are you parents?” She only blinks. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember them–and her jaw starts to tremble. “Well, if you haven’t any parents we’ll have to take you to the orphanage next door. They’ll have a bed for you.”

She nods as the nun rises up from her bed, and she instructs her to do something that she doesn’t quite hear. Reaching up, she holds onto the locket around her neck, and then suddenly, she can’t control her tears.

______

She fidgets nervously as she looks at the platform, unable to shake the odd feeling that she’s been here before, but for the life of her, she can’t remember or even imagine how that would’ve been possible.

Taking a breath, she reaches for her necklace–the locket she’s always had and the only clue to the life she used to live before going to the orphanage–and she rolls it between her fingers. She can feel the etching on the back of the empty locket–Together in Paris, it says–and as she stares up at the board, looking at the various destinations she could choose, she can’t bring herself to go to the destination marked on her papers. And despite the strings she knew that Mother Superior had to pull to get her a job in a little town just south of St. Petersburg, she knows she’ll always regret not going to Paris… just in case…

“Name?” A man barks from behind a thick glass window.

“Oh, um… Roni,” she murmurs, fishing her hand into her pocket to retrieve her papers, carefully sliding her identification card beneath the glass. “I’d like a ticket to Paris, please.”

“Do you have an exit visa?”

“Oh, um…”

“No visa, no ticket,” the man says dryly as his brow arches–and when it’s obvious that she doesn’t have the correct paperwork, he sighs. “Next.”

“But–”

“Next!”

“I just want to know where to–”

“Move out of the way.”

“But, I–”

“NEXT!”

A woman steps forward, and she lets her pass and she feels her throat tightening as she once again reaches for her locket, her thumb rubbing over the engraved text.

She knew that it was a long shot and she knew that it was unlikely that she’d just show up in Paris and find her family and thought it was hard to acknowledge, she didn’t even know that she had family to find. But  _if_ they were out there, she was willing to bet that they were in Paris–after all, what else would  _Together in Paris_  mean?

She watches the woman who stepped ahead of her get her ticket and then the next and the next and the next, and her chin starts to tremble. She pulls her papers out of her pocket and looks down at them, taking a breath as she walks to the end of the line.

“You need to go and see Robin.”

“I’m sorry?” She asks, turning to face a stout old woman with a scarf wrapped around her head and face. “Who?”

“Robin.”

“I-I don’t know a Robin.”

“He’s at the Imperial Palace,” the woman whispers as she leans in. “And he can get your that exit visa.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

The old woman nods and offers a wink. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

A little grin edges onto her lips as the woman disappears into the crowd, and she takes one more look at the papers–and then, drawing in a breath, she shoves them back into her pocket and turns out of the train station, feeling her hope renewed.

She walks quickly through the crowd, her thoughts wrapped up in a fantasy. She imagines herself wearing something other than the oversized and worn out shirt she wears belted as a dress, she imagines herself in a cute, fashionable dress–something sleeveless and knee-length, like the dresses she saw on the covers of magazines–and instead of her hair being knotted up atop her head, it’d be down and around her shoulders. She imagines herself walking through the Champs de Mars toward the Eiffel Tower–and she’d hear someone call out to her. Slowly, she’d turn and she’d see a couple, standing just feet away with tears in her eyes. They’d recognize her in an instant–and as she stood there, staring at them, her lost memories would come flooding back to her.

Twirling, she laughs to herself, thinking of their arms wrapping around her–and then, she stops, blinking up at the boarded up Palace.

“How am I supposed to get in?” She mutters to herself as she stands in front of a tall and locked iron gate. Frowning, she walks the length of it, narrowing her eyes as she looks to the boarded up windows and doors, and just as she did at the train station, she feels an odd prickling of familiarity.

Biting down on her lip, she looks a the bars and the space between them–and then, just as she’s considering whether or not she could squeeze herself through the opening, she sees a girl exiting the Palace. She has long dark hair, much like her own and she’s wearing a fur coat that looks soft and warm, and so much nicer than her own thick-but-patched up coat.

She watches as the girl slips easily through the opening, and as she hugs her coat tighter around herself, she moves quickly around the corner. She isn’t sure why she wants to talk to the girl–why she needs confirmation that a man named Robin is inside of the boarded up palace or he was able to secure her with the necessary papers–but when she reaches the opening in the gate, the girl is gone–and once more, her stomach flutters. The opening in the gate is actually an entry that leads to the back of the palace, and there are footsteps in the snow.

She follows them until she reaches a door, unboarded and and unlocked–and when she pushes into the palace, her mouth drops at the size of the kitchen. To her left is a pantry that’s easily the size of her shared-bedroom at the orphanage, to her right is a large cast iron stove. She grins as she steps inside, letting the door fall closed behind her, and as she runs her fingers along the edge of the wooden countertop at the center of the room, she can almost smell baking tea cakes and she can nearly taste the powdered sugar they’d be dusted in.

Finally, she makes her way upstairs, finding herself standing atop a balcony that overlooks a ballroom–and again, she can practically hear the music playing and see people dancing–and then, as she stands there, her smile fades and she finds herself thinking that she shouldn’t be there.

Turning away, her eyes fall to the floor and beneath a dusty bench is a little brown stuffed horse. She grins and stoops down, reaching for him as she wonders if he once belong to one of the princesses who’d lived in this palace not so long ago…

“Excuse me?”

“Oh,” she says, her heart beating as she whirls around, stuffing the horse into her pocket. “Y-you must be Robin.”

“And who are you.”

“Um, Roni,” she tells him. “Someone said you get me an… an exit visa.”

“Really?” He asks. “You’re not here to pilfer the Royal Families belongings?”

“What? No?” She insists, feeling caught of guard by his accusations. “A woman at the train station said I should come and find you here to–” She stops and her eyes narrow, her shoulders squaring as she takes a  few steps toward him. “It’s not like  _you_ own this place. What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why–”

“Are you calling me a thief?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, M’lady.”

Her eyes roll. “I’ll have you know that I’m–”

“What’s in your pocket?”

“Noth–” She stops and laughs. “Oh. Just…” Shrugging she pulls the stuffed horse out of her coat. “I heard you and I panicked. But even if this little guy belonged to one of the princesses, I doubt he’s worth enough to buy me breakfast.”

“So, you’re a petty thief.”

“Says the man who taking up residence in a home that isn’t his, selling illegal visas.” She blinks. “And though I imagine such a business could be a lucrative one, I doubt you earn enough to afford a watch like the one you’re wearing.”

At that he blinks and his jaw tightens, and a girl a bit younger than herself steps up from behind him. “Robin, relax. She seems harmless.”

“I am,” she say, looking between them as she tucks the horse beneath her arm and steps toward the girl, deciding she’s likely the more rational of the two and likely her best bet at getting her visa. “I just want to go to–”

“Oh my god,” the girl whispers, her blue eyes widening. “Robin, can you see–”

Robin eyes roll. “I can see that I’ve had a long day.”

“But, the woman at the station–”

“Was misinformed.”

“Oh…” She breathes out, her lungs deflating. “I just thought–”

“ROBIN!” The girl says again, this time her voice louder and more persistent as she tugs at his sleeve. “Look behind you.”

Roni’s eyes narrow as she follows the girl’s gaze to a portrait of the Royal Family.

“Belle, I’m not in the mood to–” His voice trails off and as her eyes trail from the portrait to him, she watches his eyes widen, too. Chewing at her lip, she looks back to the portrait, wondering what’s so suddenly interesting about. “Wh-what did you say your name was?”

“Roni,” she says, blinking as she looks back to him. “Or, at least that’s what I’ve been called for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s a funny thing to say,” the girl says, looking between her and Robin.

“Well, I don’t remember much before then,” she tells her. “I woke up one day and… and I was Roni.” She shrugs, watching as Robin looks again between her and the painting. “That’s why I want to go to Paris.”

He looks back sharply. “Paris?”

She nods. “I think that’s where my family is.”

“Why Paris?”

“Robin,” the girl whisper, nudging at him as she looks between Roni and the painting. “ _She_ wants to go to  _Paris_.”

“Shut up, Belle.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Okay, look. If you’re not going to–”

“I’d love to help,” Robin cuts in. “You see, there’s just one problem.”

“Right. You don’t sell visas anymore.”

“That’s right,” he nods. “And I only have one left.” At that, he eyes brighten. “One that’s stamped for Paris.” He sighs and shrugs, and looks to the painting. “But you see, it’s for her.”

“It’s… for a dead princess?”

“She’s not dead,” he returns flatly.

“But I read–”

“There’s a rumor,” Belle says as a grin pulls onto her lips, “That Princess Regina escaped.”

“Escaped,” she repeats skeptically. “I highly doubt–”

“It’s possible.”

She shrugs, not wanting to argue. “Well, I don’t really care if the princess escaped or not,” she tells them. “Do you know anyone else who sells–”

“You’ve never noticed it before?” Belle asks. “The resemblance?”

“What resemblance?”

“Between you and the princess.”

Blinking, Roni looks back to the portrait. “Uh, I guess… a little.”

“A little?” Robin scoffs. “You look just like her.”

“Except that she’s a child.”

“You  _used to be_  a child.” Her eyes roll as she looks back to him. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“The Princess would have been eighteen!”

“And we both have brown hair and brown eyes… just like about a third of the population.”

“So did she.”

Her eyes narrow again. “What are you suggesting.”

“It’s a  _striking_ resemblance,” Belle says.

“And you said yourself, you don’t remember much of your childhood.”

Roni feels her eyes widening as a laugh bubbles up in her chest. “Are you suggesting that  _I_  am the long-lost Princess?”

“Maybe…

“Why not?”

“It’s crazy! That’s why not!”

“Is it, though?” Robin asks, taking a step toward her as he points to the portrait. “You’re the same age and you look just like her  _and_ her only family is in  _Paris_.”

“Paris?”

Robin nods, watching as she reaches for her locket, rolling it between her fingers. “The Dowager Empress is in Paris, and for the last ten years

“A-and the Empress would know, right? If… if I was… her.”

“Surely,” he says, nodding confidently. “And if not, it’s all… just…”

“An innocent misunderstanding.”

“Right…”

“And then, at least, you’ll be in Paris, right?”

She nods as her thumb rubs over the engraving on the back of the locket–and again, feels the same hope she’d felt at the station filling up her heart. “Exactly,” she murmurs as she loses herself in the fantasy…

_____

Over the course of the next week, Robin and Belle teach Roni everything there is to know about the long-lost Princess Regina. They tell her about the day she was born in the summer palace near the sea, and how her older sister, Zelena, who’d been two at the time, cried because she didn’t want to share her toys. Despite that rocky start, the girls grew up close. Regina was often Zelena’s shadow, and the girls favorite game was dress-up. Zelena was a more serious child–as it was expected, as she would one day be queen–while Regina was more carefree. While Zelena was always concerned about getting her mother’s praise, Regina was a rule-breaker.She loved horses and tree-climbing and swimming in the little pond at the summer Palace, all things that made messes of her fancy dresses. Much to her mother’s chagrin, she didn’t like tea and refused to drink it, so her father would often sneak apple juice into her cup instead.

They teach her how to curtsy and how to sip her tea, and by the time they boarded the train bound for Pairs, she was an expert on all things related to the Princesses life–and though she could barely admit it, muchless pinpoint what it was, there was something so familiar about the stories of Princess Regina’s life.

And by the time they boarded the train, she’d had just about enough of Robin.

He was pushy and smug, and no matter where she turned, he was there–there and insisting the way she was sitting wasn’t the way the princess and the way she ate wasn’t how the princess would do it. He seemed far too invested in something that seemed like such a pipedream, and she knew that he’d be angry when the Dowager Empress proved that she wasn’t the real Regina–and little by little, she was getting the impression that the lessons on the princess’s life were much less about trying to spark memories than they were to give her the information necessary to pretend to be the princess.

And she wasn’t willing to be a part of some con–especially not a con against a sweet old lady, regardless of how rich the old lady was.

“And here we are!” Belle announces as she pulls open their compartment inside of the passenger car–and Roni’s brows arch. “Home sweet home… for the next couple of days.”

“Wow,” Roni murmurs as she peeks inside. “It’s so… plush.” She grins sheepishly as she looks between them. “I sort of anticipated we’d be in the baggage cart.”

“Only the best for the princess,” Robin replies, pushing past her as he hoists their bags onto an overhead shelf. “First class from St. Petersburg to Paris.”

She watches as Robin drops himself down into the seat next to the window, settling back and smiling as he props his feet up on the seat across from him.

“What if I wanted to sit there?”

“There’s two other seats.”

“What if I wanted the window seat?”

“Then you should have moved faster, m’lady,” he says, yawning as he cross his arms over his chest and smiles as his eyes close. “Too bad.”

Her jaw tense as she nods, stepping over his outstretched legs. “Can I ask you something.”

“If you must.”

“Do you  _really_ believe that I am the long lost princess?”

“I do, M’lady.”

“Well, then, if that’s that case, it’s  _Your Majesty_  and you’ll kindly move your legs.” He blinks his eyes open and his brow furrow as she wedges herself into the seat. Belle giggles as she gives his feet a hard shove and Robin’s eyes widen as his feet thud down against the floor.

Robin rolls his eyes and she grins as she leans back into the seat, propping up her feet beside him as Belle sits down next to her and props her feet up, too. Robin groans and tries to get comfortable, his space suddenly much smaller and less comfortable than it was before.

Smiling and quite satisfied with herself, she leans back in the seat and fishes the stuffed horse out from her pocket.

“You kept the horse?”

“Rocinante makes for a good travel buddy,” she says with an easy shrug as she stuffs him behind her neck. “And a perfect pillow.

“And you named it?”

“He needed a name.”

“And you picked  _that_?” He scoffs and his eyes roll as he shifts himself. “Of all the names, you pick that.”

“He looked like a Rocinante.”

“He looked like a clumsy excuse of a horse?”

“No,” she says, defense rising into her voice as she reaches up behind herself to stroke the stuff animal’s head. “He looked like a horse that needed some love.”

“Some love…”

“Robin, leave her alone,” Belle sighs as her head falls back. “You don’t have to pick apart–:

“Do you even know where that’s from?”

“The horse or the name?’ Roni asks, her shoulders squaring with indignation.

“The name.”

She blinks, she says easily–though she isn’t entirely sure why. “Don Quixote.”

“Oh.”

She grins at her unearned triumph. It’d been a lucky guess and for the life of her, she has no idea where her response came from. She’s never even seen a copy of Don Quixote much less read it or had any sense of attachment to it, but still she tips her chin up haughty. “You assume because I grew up in an orphanage I’m uncultured.”

“Well, I’m not the one who didn’t know how to hold a tea cup, M’lady.”

“It’s  _Your Majesty_ ,” she says, giggling softly to herself as she closes her eyes. “Remember?”

“Sure,” he grumbles as he kicks at the seat, jarring her slightly–and she grins to herself, pretending not to notice.

As the train begins to pick up pace, rocking gently as it chugs along on the the tracks, they’re each lulled to sleep, consumed with dreams of Paris. None of them seem to notice when the train slows as it pulls up to one of its schedule stops, and so none of them notice when the green-faced Rumplestiltskin boards the train.

_____

“Robin! Robin, wake up!” Belle shrieks as she pushes at her brother’s shoulder. “Robin! We have to get out of here.”

Roni’s eyes flutter open. “What?”

“We have to get off of the train.”

“Why?”

“Belle?” Robin asks groggily. “What–”

“We have to get off the train!” Roni blink as she looks between them. “They’re checking papers.”

“What?”

Her brow arches. “Is there something wrong with  _our_ papers.”

“They’re supposed to have a  _red_ stamp now,” Belle explains, looking frantic as she looks to Robin. “You used  _blue_.”

“That’s because I’m  _supposed_ to–”

“They must have change it!”

“When!?” He demands as if Belle has all the answers. “As of last week, it was–”

“Robin! SHUT UP!” Belle yells cutting in as her voice rises over his and she stands up, pulling her bag from the overhead storage bin. “We have to go. They’re only a few compartments down. They heard there were passengers with forged papers.”

“How would they–”

“Does it matter?” She asks, her eyes wide. “Because I have no interest in staying to find out  _how_ they know. The point is that they  _do_ know.”

Robin sighs, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. “A few compartments?” Belle nods, pulling down her brother’s bag and throwing it at him. “How the hell are we–”

“The window.”

Roni blinks as she takes her bag from Belle. “The  _window_?” She asks, her eyes sliding to Robin. “The two of you expect me to jump out of the window of a moving train.” She shakes her head as Robin pushes open the window and the wind rushes in. “The two of you are  _insane_.”

“Well,  _Your Majesty_ , I hope you enjoy Siberia in winter,” Robin says, standing up on his seat and offering his hand to his sister. “Because that’s where you’ll be heading.”

Roni feels her heartbeat quicken and she swallows hard as Robin grins at Belle, his fingers tightening around his hand as the wind rushes in. She hears footsteps coming toward her and voice getting louder and louder. She looks through the frosted glass as tears string in her eyes and she hears a man murmur the number to their compartment–and by the time she looks back, Robin and Belle are out the window.

Trembling, she gets up onto the seat watching as Belle and Robin tumble in the snow–and as the larch on their compartment opens, she tucks Rocinante under her arm and clutches to her necklace, drawing in a breath and pinching her eyes closed as she jumps.

She lands in the snow with a thud and she groans as she watches the train whizzing as it hurries down the tracks toward Paris.

Robin calls out to her asking if she’s okay, and for a second, she’s not sure.

She’s already sore and there’s already snow in her boots–and she can’t help but be annoyed with Robin. He should have known the ink color had change, if he was in the business of forging visas. It was a cavalier mistake and who knows how many lives he’d endangered because of it.

“Roni!” He yells again. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she nods as Robin runs toward her, his boots sliding through the fresh snow. “Perfectly fine.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself when you–”

“When I was  _forced_ to jump from a moving train because your carelessness.”

“My carelessness?” He asks, his eyes widening. “I’m not the one who tipped them off.”

Her eyes roll at his defense and she finds herself looking to Belle. “What next?”

“I… I guess we find the closest town and stay in for the night.”

“For the night?”

“We slept all day,” Robin says flatly. “The sun’s going to set in an hour or so.”

“Great,” Roni sighs as she plucks Rocinante from the snow and stuffs him into her bag. “Just great.”

The three of them trudge through the snow until they reach a small little village–and all the while, none of them speak. The sun sets and the temperature drops, and by the time they reach a little inn at the center of the village, their frozen through their gloves and boots.

An elderly man who speaks French with a heavy Dutch accent leads them up to one of the room, apologizing in advance for the close quarters they’ll be keeping through the night, and Belle assures him that as long as there’s a fire place, they can’t complain too much. He laughs at that as he opens the door and Roni’s brows arch as she looks around the tiny room that’s no more than a bed and fireplace.

Belle goes in first and drops down her bag, letting her wet coat fall to the floor as the old man builds up the fire and promises to return quickly with more blankets–and when he does, she takes them, building a pallet on the floor.

“So, uh, I guess this means we’ll share the bed,” Robin says, grinning a bit awkwardly as he scratches the back of his head. “Unless, you want me to sleep by the window.” Roni blinks as she looks to the small bay window and she chews at her bottom lip. The window panes are frosted and there’s barely enough room for a child. “Yeah, actually, that’s what I’m going to do,” he decides, plucking an extra blanket from the foot of the bed. “You can take–”

“No,” she cuts in. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You… couldn’t sleep in a cozy bed?”

“Not if you were cramped up in the window seat.” She shrugs as she looks down at the single bed. “There’s enough room.”

“Is there?” He asks, his brow arching. “Because–”

“If we lay on our sides.”

“Right,” he nods. “You’re right.”

She grins, reaching for the blanket and yanking it back. “I know I am.” He laughs a little and she expects him to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just smiles and climbs into bed, and then to her surprise, he rolls onto his side side, facing the center of the bed. “I, um… I don’t know if I’ve said this, but… thank you for getting me to France.”

“You haven’t,” he says as a grin pulls onto his lips, watching as she gets into the bed, awkwardly shifting herself to face away from him. “But I appreciate the gratitude, especially given that… it wasn’t been such an easy trip.”

“Well, I’d never have been able to make the trip without you and Belle.”

At that, he laughs softly and her shoulders tense a little as she feels his breath on her neck. “Something tells me you’d have found a way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, not explaining anymore as he edges a little closer. “Are you warm enough.”

“Oh, I… I could be warmer, but I don’t think there’s much we can do about that.”

“I will deny ever suggesting this, but…” His voice trails off and again, she feels him edge a little closer. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“If I hold you, you’ll warm up.”

Sitting up, she turns to look at him, her brow arched. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true and I swear,” he says as an awkward little laugh rises into his voice. “My intentions are perfectly innocent.”

“Are they?” She asks, rolling her eyes. “And how do you know this is going to… warm me up?”

“Because for years I had to figure out a way to keep my little sister alive,” he says plainly, shrugging his shoulder. “We did a lot of cuddling.”

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh.”

“So, come on,” he says, opening up his arms to her. “Come here.”

“I don’t–”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“And suppose Belle wakes up?”

“Oh,” he says, offering a hearty laugh. “She’ll sleep through anything. She’s always the last one up.”

Roni chews at her lip. “She wasn’t on the train. She was up first.”

“That’s probably because she was faking being asleep,” Robin tells her. “She’s good at that when she wants to ignore me.”

Roni nods as she looks to Belle. “You were pretty annoying, taking  _both_ window seats.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to do anything that would put you in a compromising situation or something that’d be indecent for my baby sister to wake up to,” he says. “And really, I’d rather not present a purple-hued princess to the Dowager Empress.”

Art that, she giggles. “Purple  _is_  the color of royalty.”

“It is, but I’m pretty sure she wants to find you  _alive_.”

“That’s fair,” she says, peering down at Belle as a giggle escapes her. “I think she’s snoring.”

“Probably,” Robin nods. “Like I said, my sister will sleep through anything.”

“Like mine,” she laughs, looking back to him–and then, her smile fades.

“What?”

“Princess Zelena,” she murmurs softly. “She… she could sleep through anything.” His brow furrows and she’s not sure where that detail could’ve come from. “You… you told me that, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” He says narrowing his eyes. “Or maybe Belle did. She’s the expert on the royal family. If it’s royal, she can spot it.”

“Oh. Right,” Roni nods and she feels a knot tighten in her stomach as a faded memory of a red-haired princess sleeping in her bed comes to mind. “Belle probably did.”

Taking a breath, she eases herself back down and closes her eyes as she scoots herself closer to him, letting his arms fold around her, his hands rubbing over her arm as his chin came to rest atop her head–and she couldn’t help but think that he was surprisingly comfortable–warm and soft–and she wouldn’t mind spending more than one night enveloped in his arms.

_____

Her eyes flutter open and the remnants of her dream fade away, until all that’s left is the faint sound of music playing and the soft scent of peppermint. She grins groggily as she feels the warmth of Robin’s body in front of her and the warmth of the sun on her back.

“Are you… watching me sleep?”

Robin’s eyes widen and he looks like a little boy whose been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “No,” he’s quick to say. “I just… I didn’t want to move…I thought I’d, um, wake you.”

Laughing softly, she nods. “Right.”

“It’s true.  
  


“Sure it is,” she says, making no effort to move away from him. “Is, um… is Belle still asleep?”

“She is,” he nods, drawing in a breath as he pulls away. “I should, um… go scroung up some breakfast for us all, and, um… maybe a map or two.” Roni sits up, watching as he gets out of bed–and for a moment, he just stands there, awkwardly staring at her. “Any requests?”

“Considering I’m a vagabond with no money, no. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

At that, Robin laughs. “Who needs money?”

Her eyes roll as he pushes his hands through his hair and looks himself over in the mirror before grabbing his coat and leaving the room. For a moment, she just sits there, not really sure of what to do as she reaches behind herself and pushes her fingers into her hair, pulling out the pins that have been holding it up.

Careful not to wake Belle, she moves in front of the mirror, combing her hair with her fingers and staring at the rag she wears as a dress–even if she was the real Princess Regina.

“We could trade dresses,” Belle says, sitting up and rubbing her hands over her eyes. “I don’t mind.”

“This… isn’t a dress,” she admits with a shrug. “It’s a shirt that once belonged to a very fat man.”

Belle giggles and a smile edges onto her lips. “Besides, you’re smaller than I am.” Belle’s eyes narrow skeptical, but she doesn’t say any more about the dress. “You know, you  _really_ do look the part.”

“I don’t feel the part,” she says, reaching for her necklace. “How is the Dowager Empress supposed to recognize me if–” Belle’s eyes narrow as she pulls up her knees and hugs them to her chest as Roni’s voice trails off. “I’ll be back to square one.”

“What’s that?”

“Hmm?”

“Around your neck.”

“Oh, just… a locket,” she says. “It’s empty inside, but–”

“Can I see it?” She hesitates and then unclasps it, holding it out to Belle and watching as she examines it–and watches as something flickers in her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she says, her voice softer and almost shaky as hands it back to her. “Royal, even.”

Roni blinks as Belle gets up onto her feet. “Um, where did you say my brother disappeared to?”

“Um, something about… breakfast, I think.”

Belle grins and rolls her eyes. “Well, unless you want sardines, I’d better go and help him scrounge something up.”

Laughing, Roni nods and watches her go–and then, turns her attention back to the mirror. “Please remember me,” she whispered. “Please.”

_____

After bagels and lox that she’s sure were stolen from a cafe just down the road from the inn, they set off in the back of a wagon, headed for another train station–this time legally boarding a train that will take them from the countryside to Paris.She’s quiet the whole way there–and it doesn’t go without notice. But for as often as Robin asks if everything’s okay or if she’s nervous or what he can do to help, she can’t quite put into words what she’s feeling, so she’d said nothing.

When they got to the train station, Robin went to fetch their tickets at the window, returned with the tickets and the newspaper tucked beneath his arm. When they boarded, he made a joke about the legitimacy of the tickets, ensure they’d been bought with actual money, so none of them would be fleeing out the train’s window on this particular journey. It earned a laugh from Belle and a smile from Roni–and as soon as they settled, Belle grabbed the newspaper and headed to the dining cart, leaving them alone.

Robin smiled awkwardly as she shifted closer to the window and she watched curiously as he stood up to rummage through the luggage compartment overhead.

“You know,” he begins, laughing softly. “I felt so odd about actually purchasing tickets that I had to steal something just to make myself feel like me.”

She laughs and her eyes roll. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Well, Belle mentioned you’re not feeling like much of a princess and you’re worried about the Dowager not recognizing you, so–” Her eyes narrow as he voice trails off, he he offers her a sheepish laugh as he pulls down a suitcase, she’s never seen before. “So, I got something for you.”

“Robin, where–”

“Let’s open it,” he cuts in, tossing it down on the seat between them. “I have no idea what’s inside, but judging by the way the lady who  _carelessly_ left it at her own feet was dressed, there’s something princess-y in here.”

“Princess-y?”

He nods. “It’s a word.”

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes as he fidgets with the lock. “You don’t even know if her clothes would–” She stops as the suitcase pops open and right on top is a French blue dress with white cuffs on the sleeves and Peter Pan collar. “Oh…”

“Try it on.”

“Here?”

Robin shrugs as he rises up. “I’ll wait outside.”

She nods as he steps out of the compartment and she holds her breath as she rummages through the suitcase, finding a matching bow and a pair of  fashionable lace-up boots. She changes quickly and stares at the dim reflection of herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the soft fabric of the skirt before reaching for the bow and tying it into her hair.

She hears Belle return, talking a mile a minute, and it’s not until she hears her own name that she opens the door. Belle’s eyes are wide as she tells that how lucky they are that they got off of the train when they did, that a woman who looked an awful lot like her–a woman who was on her way to meet the Dowager Empress, no less–was murdered.

Her knees feel weak and Robin guides her back into their compartment–and she feels a sinking feeling in her stomach, that for some reason feels all too familiar.

For the rest of the journey, neither say much of anything–and when they exit the train, Robin returns the suitcase to the station, telling a charming tale of a woman who left it on the train and was likely missing it. She smiles at the story–and for a brief moment, it helps her to put aside the nerves that consumed her as they pulled into the Paris station.

Finally, they arrive at the house–a large estate with Poinsettias in the windows–and engraved on the door knocker is the royal family’s crest and their name in a curly script that’s not unlike the script on her necklace.

“Are you ready, Your Majesty,” Robin asks as Belle reaches for the knocker, rasping it against the door. “Are you ready to meet your family?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, her stomach flopping as a wave of nausea hits her. “Please, remember me,” she says in a barely audible whisper as she reaches for the necklace.

After what seems like an eternity, the door answers and a tall, slender woman in a red dress answers–immediately locking eyes with Belle. “Can I help you?” she asks, not looking at Robin or Roni.

“We, um… we’re here to see the Dowager Empress.”

“Oh,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry–”

“She’s here,” Belle cuts in. “I know she is. She’s  _always_ in town for the Russian Ballet.”

Roni blinks as her fingers tighten around her locket–as a flicker of a memory of a little voice asking if she’ll ever be able to see the ballet.

“Who should I tell her is calling?”

“The Princess,” Belle says. “Princess Regina.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” the woman says, stepping out of the house and pulling the door closed. “The Empress is no longer looking for her granddaughter.”

“D-did she, um… find her?” Roni asks. “Did the Empress find her long lost granddaughter?”

“No, it’s just… it’s been so hard on her,” the woman says with a regretful sigh. “There have been so many imposters.”

“Oh…”

“But she’s the  _real_ Princess,” Belle says. “She deserves the chance to–”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sure,” Robin asks, “You’re sure she won’t see just one more girl?”

The woman shakes her head, then bites down onto her lip as she approaches Roni. “Well, this one certainly looks like the Princess.”

“That’s because she  _is_ the Princess,” Belle says. “Look at her necklace.”

Roni’s eyes widen as she slowly pulls out the locket, her heart thumping as she the woman examines it–and then, her eyes press closed. “Tell me something,” the woman says in a soft voice. “Where did you get that?”

“My grandmother,” she says, surprising even herself. “She… she gave it to me the night of a ball.” A small smile edges onto her lips, and she reaches for the locket. “I snuck out of bed because I… I wanted to watch people dance. I loved to watch and Granny… Granny saw me from watching from the balcony.” She laughs a little, feeling her heartbeat quicken at the realization that she’s  _remembering_ , that she remembers a past and a family, and that she isn’t all alone in the world. “I thought she’d be mad, but she wasn’t. She… gave me the necklace that night and said I could come with her to Paris and then…” Her smile fades as she remember Rumpelstiltskin striding into the ballroom, holding the dagger up over her grandfather who’d tried to stop him. “And then… our entire world change. Just like that.” She blinks as tears well up in her eyes. “I was so scared.”

“And… how did you escape?”

For a moment, she says nothing–and she hears Robin sigh. “A hallboy got us out,” she says as the memory flickers. “There was a wall that…opened up.” And then she stops, laughing uncomfortably as she looks between them all. “That’s crazy isn’t it? Walls that open up?”

“Maybe,” the woman says, “But maybe not.”

“So, you’ll… you’ll let us in? You’ll let us see the Empress?”

“No,” she says slowly as regret pings in her voice. “She said she wouldn’t see anymore girls.“

“You  _have_ to let her in. The Empress  _has_ to see her!” There’s something different about Robin’s voice. “She  _is_ the Princess. You have to let her prove it! She can. I  _know_ she can.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Please,” Belle cuts in, reaching for the woman’s hand. “Maybe there’s another way?”

For a moment, no one says anything–at least not anything she can hear over the pounding of her heart–and then, the woman smiles. “Tonight, I will be accompanying the Empress to the ballet. I’ll have three tickets set aside for you. You can pick them up at the window.” She pauses and her eyes shift to Roni, and then a soft smile edges onto her list. “I’ll make an appointment for you at Chanel.”

“Chanel?”

“Mm, yes,”

“And, who should we say sent us?”

“Ruby. They’ll know who I am,” the woman says smiling at them all before offering Belle a quick wink–and then, as they all stand there on the brick approach, both Robin and Roni dissolve into laughter as Belle looks back at them, completely flushed.

_____

Biting down on her lip, she steps out of the fitting room in a royal blue sleeveless dress with a sheer blue train, embroidered with tiny iridescent glass beads The jewelry she wears is heavy and sparkling as it changes the light and white satin gloves come up to her elbows. Her hair is wound up in a bun atop her head and a diamond-studded comb is pushed into it–and as she looks at herself, in the mirror, she doesn’t recognize the girl looking back at her.

“So,” she asks, looking between Robin and Belle. “What do you think?”

“I, um… I think you, uh… you look…um…”

She giggles as Robin stammers and her eyes shift to Belle. “What he’s trying to say,” Belle says, as she looks between them. “Is that you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She takes a breath. “Do you… think she’ll… she’ll like me?”

“She’d be crazy not to,” Belle tells her, narrowing her eyes at her brother as he stares slack jawed at Roni.

“Uh, you’re…um… you’re welcome,” Robin says, swallowing hard as his eyes linger over her. “And I meant that,” he says, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You  _do_ look beautiful.”

Again, Roni giggles. “I don’t even want to think about how expensive this dress is.”

“Then don’t,” Robin says with a shrug. “I hear that royalty never does.”

“They don’t have to.”

She bites down on her lip. “You  _really_ think I’m the princess, don’t you?”

“And you don’t?”

“I… don’t know.”

“You remembered escaping the palace,” he says. “You–”

“Barely,” she admits, smoothing her hand over own over skirt of the dress. “It felt more like a… a fragment of a dream more than it did a memory.”

“Roni,” he says, taking a breath. “That wasn’t a dream.”

“How would you know?” She asks. “How would anyone know?”

“Because,” he tells her, slowly drawing in a breath. “ _I_  was that hall boy. I was the boy who opened up the wall and let you and your grandmother out.” She watches as Belle’s lips part and her her own heart starts to be faster. “I wasn’t sure until this afternoon, until you told Ruby about the night Rumpelstiltskin killed your family.”

“That was… that was real,”  she breathes out, her eyes pressing closed as her heart pounds in her chest. “That means–”

“It means you found your family… Regina.” Her eyes open and she smiles at him, wanting more than anything to thank him for giving her this opportunity, for insisting that she take it, for being her friend even when she made it difficult–but suddenly, she can’t find her voice. All she can do is stare at him, offering him a teary smile as he stands in front of her in a pair of black tie and tails. “Come on,” he says, offering her his arm. “Let’s go and meet your grandmother.”

She nods as her hand slips through his arm. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

Biting down on her lip she looks up at him. “You know, I… I actually think I prefer it when you call me M’lady.”

“Yeah?”

She nods as Belle hands her a white fur wrap that ties over her shoulders. She has no idea how much they’ve just spent, but the salesman assured her the bill was covered. She tightened her grip on Robin’s arm as they walked to the theatre just down the street–and all the while, she held her breath.

Fidgeting nervously, she sat in a balcony across from the Empress, and could barely concentrate on the show–all she could do was watch the regal woman as she smiled down at the stage. Robin held her hand throughout the show, rubbing his thumb against her wrist in an effort to call her–and when the show ended, after what seemed like an eternity, she jumped from her seat and pulled Robin along with her.

He held onto her hand as she waited at the spot that Ruby told them to be after the show.

And then, after the crowd had thinned, the Empress emerged from her reserved balcony. For a moment, she just stared at her–eyes locked and expressionless–and then she looked away.

“No more,” she said in a low whisper as she looked to Ruby. “My heart can’t take this.”

“But, Your Highness. If you’d only–”

“No,” the Empress said, her voice louder and firm. “I can’t listen to another imposter…” And then her eyes slid to Roni. “No matter how stunningly similar she looks.”

Ruby’s eyes widened as the Empress brushed past them, quickly offering her apologies as she rushed to keep up–and then, Robin stepped forward.

“You can’t just walk away from her,” he called. “She’s your granddaughter and she’s waited almost her entire life to see you again.”

The Empress turned and Roni felt her mouth go dry. “What is she going to tell me, hm? That Regina prefered apple juice to tea, that she was a wild little girl who like to climb trees and jump in mud puddles?” She shakes her head. “Anyone could know those things. I know because… because all the others have claimed those same memories and I simply can’t meet another girl pretending to be my Regina.”

“Tell her about the wall,” Robin whispers. “Tell her about–”

The Empress narrows her eyes. “And you,” she says, looking to Robin. “You think I don’t know who you are?” She scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re Robin, the conman who’s been holding auditions, finding actresses to play the part of my granddaughter, just so you can collect the reward money.” She shakes her head. “You’re despicable.”

Roni’s eyes widen and she pulls her hand away. “What?”

“Oh, you weren’t in on it?” She laughs softly. “Did he play you, too?”

“Roni, I can–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she says, taking a step back as tears fill her eyes. “You lied to me. You  _used_ me.”

“Roni. Please. Let me explain.”

“No…” Shaking her head, the Empress turns away and she stares at him with tears welling in her eyes, unsure of what to believe, unsure if she could even believe her own hazy memories. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Roni, I… I might have started off–”

“You tricked me…”

“It might have started off that way. But, Roni, you’re the real deal.” His eyes widen and she’s surprised he isn’t asking for forgiveness. “You’re the princess. You’re Regina.”

“But–”

“If you don’t trust me, I understand,” he says. “But, trust yourself.” He lets out a shallow breath as he looks past her. “You know who you are.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Regina…”

“Go after her.” She blinks as he he points to her locket. “You were going to come here anyway, with or without me. Go after her.”

She takes a breath and nods–and then, the next thing she knows, she running down the stairs to where a limo waits. It’s snowing and she’s standing there, bare-shouldered as tears stream down her chest. “Wait,” she calls, catching the Empress’ attention. “Please! Just talk to me.”

“My dear, I can’t–”

“What happened to Together in Paris?” She called out. “It was supposed to be our secret.” Tears spill down her cheeks as she reaches around her neck, unclasping the necklace. “I thought I was going to be in trouble. I was supposed to be asleep, like Zelena was, and you caught me. I was dancing–more like twirling, actually–with Rocinante, pretending that I was on the dancefloor.” She holds out the necklace and bats her hands over her eyes. “And then I smelled peppermint and knew I was caught.”

The Empress takes the necklace. “Where did you get this?”

“You gave it to me,” she says, the memories of her childhood flooding back to her. “That night, you gave it to me. You told me that in the spring Zelena and I could take dance lessons, and until then, you had something else to entertain me.” She shakes her head as the Empress’ eyes widen. “I didn’t understand why it was empty–”

“And I told you we’d take pictures together in Paris.”

She nods. “I was so excited. We were supposed to leave the next–”

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Her grandmother’s arms wrap around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly. “Oh, Regina,” she breathes how. “I am so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” She asks as her eyes widen. “You didn’t–”

“I should have held on tighter.”

“That wasn’t–”

She presses a kiss to her forehead, the way that she used to when she was a little girl. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”

“No,” she murmurs. “It doesn’t.”

And once again, she pulls her close, holding her tightly as the snow flutters down–and through their tears, they never see the green-eyed Rumplestiltskin looming from a taxi behind them.

_____

Regina sighs as walks down the long corridor of the dimly lit hospital, a clutch purse underneath her arm and a woolen cloak over her shoulders–and when Belle’s eyes met hers, all she could so was shake her head.

“He’s so stupid,” Belle sighs. “He could have gotten himself killed.”

“But he’s fine?”

Belle nods. “Considering.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmurs. “He was–”

“He loves you,” Belle supplies as a grin edges onto her lips. “But if he knew I’d told you that, he’d likely never speak to me again.”

Regina laughs softly. “My lips are sealed.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Ruby’s downstairs.”

“I, um… I’m going to go for a walk, and… let you…um… go in.”

She grins at the feeble excuse as Belle’s cheeks flush, but other than that, she pretends not to notice. Regina nods her thanks as the younger girl passes and she watches her disappear around a corner before she looks to the guard standing at-attention outside of his room.

“Do my Princess Powers have the ability to excuse him from whatever charges your holding him on?”

“I’m sorry. They don’t,” the man says–and then a hint of a grin forms. “I owe your grandmother a favor though.”

She nods and bites down on her lip; then, taking a deep breath, she steps into the hospital room and pulls the door closed behind her.

The night before she’d fallen asleep that first time with a picture book on her lap, only vaguely aware of sirens in the distance–and when she awoke the following morning, she had breakfast with her grandmother. They spent the day reminiscing, trading favorite memories and catching each other up on the years they spent apart. They went for a walk through the Champs de Mars and drank coffee at a favorite cafe. They spent the afternoon in and out of stores and had dinner on the patio of a hotel, overlooking the water. They discussed hosting a ball to celebrate their reunion, and Granny teased her that she’d finally be getting those dancing lessons she’d so desperately wanted when she was a girl.

And all of it felt like a part of some sort of wonderful dream–and if she didn’t allow her thoughts to wander, she was happy and content.

She had everything she’d ever wanted.

She’d been standing at the end of the stairs watching as two footmen carried bag after bag up to her room when Ruby rushed toward her, waving the evening paper, speaking too fast for her to catch anything other than Robin’s name–and she’d folded her arms and turned away, refusing to listen to anything about him.

And then, Ruby explained.

Rumpelstiltskin was found dead that morning and Robin had been arrested. The paper didn’t give many details, so she’d reached out to Belle who’d told her the story–a story of how Rumplestiltskin had killed a taxi driver and overtaken his cab, how he’d been following behind the Regina and the Empress. Her eyes widened and she hadn’t understood–and that’s when Granny had come in and explained Rumplestiltskin’s history with her family–and how he wouldn’t rest until all of Xavier’s heirs were dead.

Her head was spinning as Ruby told the rest of the story and when Granny added that she’d sent her estate agent to see him to both offer his thanks for keeping her and Regina safe the night before and to give him the promised reward, he’d only accepted the Empress’ thanks and then, Granny offered a sheepish grin and confessed that she was wrong about Robin Locksley–and she hoped that Regina could find it in her heart to forgive him because it clear that he loved her.

“You are such an idiot,” she says, sinking down into a chair at his bedside. “What were you thinking?”

A tired grin edges onto his lips. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, M’lady.”

“No,” she murmurs as she reaches for his hand. “Apparently not.”

“You worked too hard for your happy ending.” Taking a breath, she nods. “You are happy now, aren’t you?”

“I… had a wonderful day with my grandmother,” she tells him as tears well in her eyes. “But I haven’t quite found my happy ending.”

“No?” He asks. “You have your grandmother and your memories and… everything.”

“I don’t have you.”

“Me?” He asks, his brow furrowing. “I’d have thought you’d hate me after I lied to you.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I’m… annoyed that you didn’t tell me, but I don’t hate you.” She grins and squeezes his hand. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Biting down on her lips, she draws in a breath as his blue eyes widen. “You see, when I was a little girl I always imagined that… that my happy ending would be dancing with my husband at a royal ball and–”

“Are you… asking me…to…”

“I don’t know,” she admits, her cheeks flushing as she nods. “I just know that I love you, Robin, and I think last night you proved that you love me too.”

“I do,” he says easily.

“I can’t imagine living happily ever after without you.”

She doesn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, she gets up and sits down on the edge of his bed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his, kissing him softly and sweetly–and as his hand tangles in her hair, she finds herself  smiling into his kiss because never, in a million years, did she expect her life to work out this way.


End file.
